


The Winter Prince

by aosav



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Cat-Dragons, Dragon Trainer Oikawa, Dragons, Explicit Language, M/M, Magic, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Prince Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aosav/pseuds/aosav
Summary: The new dragon master encounters the prince in the stables one night and maybe commits some treason.Or: Oikawa thinks Prince Iwaizumi is Very Attractive and Iwa is drowning in angst.





	The Winter Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HarmoniousDestruction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniousDestruction/gifts).



> Merry Christmas (and happy New Year), Abby!
> 
> This is not the 1k of fluff and kittens and snow that I set out to write, but at least it still has dragons? (It thinks it's part of a larger au, look at this one-shot, these airs and graces, it thinks it can trick me into writing a full au of this nonsense, unbelievable.)

It isn’t snowing the first time Oikawa sees Prince Iwaizumi, but it’s cold enough to start at any moment. And, well, okay, so it isn’t actually the first time he’s seen the prince – of course he’s seen him around before now, what with Oikawa being the new dragon trainer for the royal guard and the prince being famously hands-on with his responsibilities to the young warlock-knights who train under him – but it _is_ the first time Oikawa has seen him from this close. And boy is he close. He’s, like, right there. He’s invading Oikawa's space, actually, his temple of holy serenity and professionalism that most people call the royal stables. Not that Oikawa really minds. How could he mind? One of the two people in this stable is a prince and it certainly isn’t Oikawa. Oikawa is in no position to mind anything the prince does.

It doesn’t hurt that the prince isn’t exactly hard on the eyes, either, especially with the soft-looking gray of his scarf bringing out the sharp features of his face in the flickering, swaying golden light of the lanterns hanging above them. Not that Oikawa has noticed. Noticing things like that might be treason, or something, for someone of Oikawa's station. He’s not entirely sure on that one, but this kingdom has some weird laws that he had never even heard of out in the rolling hills of the vine country and only became aware of after moving to the capital for this job.

The job he’s supposed to be doing right now, the reason he’s here, standing in the doorway like a creep staring at the prince and possibly committing treason when Prince Iwaizumi tilts his head and the light catches on his eyelashes and oh, yeah, that’s definitely illegal, they’re going to have to arrest him, they’re going to lock him away and Oikawa won’t even mind because _damn_.

That’s what he thinks, the first time he sees Prince Iwaizumi up close enough to see the dark green of his eyes and the exact shape of his mouth and the particular lines of his shoulders that manage to look regal even beneath layers and layers of furs. That’s what he _thinks_. What he _says_ is:

“Hey, you.”

Uh oh. If eyeing up the prince is illegal, calling him “hey, you” is probably double-illegal, or something. His home country has turned out to be a much stranger and more rigid place than he ever thought it was, and he wouldn’t put it past them to have laws about things like that here in the capital.

Prince Iwaizumi looks up, his head immediately snapping upright, chin squared, into the posture Oikawa has always seen him in, shedding off the soft, almost vulnerable attitude he bore a moment ago with his head dipped low and his shoulders rounded. Oikawa liked the other look better. Which is probably treason, but oh well. Oikawa has never believed in doing things halfway, so he might as well embrace his impending arrest.

This is why he says what he says next, probably:

“Are you gonna help me with this or what?” He shifts the box in his arms, lifting it higher for a moment and raising one eyebrow.

Prince Iwaizumi's brow wrinkles. His lips purse. Oikawa commits treason again.

“Seriously,” Oikawa says, deliberately casual in his tone and his address, “these kits aren’t going to feed themselves.”

“Kits?” Prince Iwaizumi asks. His voice is lovely but rough, like he’s been crying or trying not to.

Oikawa flashes his most charming smile and is deeply gratified when Prince Iwaizumi blinks at him, several times, hard, rapidly, and then clears his throat. “You know,” he says, still casual, “dragon kits. The ones we’re raising for the royal guard.”

“I didn’t think we raised kits here; I thought they were brought in to be trained once they matured,” Prince Iwaizumi says. He stands up, though, and moves to take the box from Oikawa. Letting the prince do his manual labor is probably illegal. Oikawa lets him anyway.

“Used to,” he agrees. He motions for Prince Iwaizumi to follow – he does, falling into perfect step with Oikawa the way only a soldier can, their strides synced up exactly within the first few paces despite the fact that Oikawa is slightly taller – and leads the way further into the stables complex to where the kits are kept. “I thought it’d be more efficient to raise them here, though, that way they won’t come with any bad habits you need to train out,” he explains. He’s actually pretty proud of this change he’s instituted. It will make a huge difference in the long run, he’s sure, and will make training much faster and more efficient when these kits are grown enough to start. “You can get them used to being around clanging metal and shouty soldiers right from the start and figure out before they’re even half-grown which ones have the temperament to serve.”

“You’re the new dragon master,” Prince Iwaizumi says, as though just figuring out where he knows Oikawa from. “Oikawa.”

“And you’re my assistant for the night,” Oikawa returns, watching for a reaction out of the corner of his eye. To his immense satisfaction, Prince Iwaizumi visibly relaxes at the declaration, at the avoidance of his actual station, and nods in agreement.

“You came here from the vine country, didn’t you?” Prince Iwaizumi asks a moment later, his tone much more comfortable than before. His shoulders have gentled a bit, too, though they still look every inch as regal.

“A few months ago,” Oikawa confirms. “There’s a lot to get used to.”

They’ve arrived in the kit stable now and Oikawa points to the open expanse of floor in the middle to indicate that Prince Iwaizumi should place the box there. The Prince does so while Oikawa goes to start opening stalls. He can hear them shuffling as he gets closer, wings beating and feet pawing uselessly at the doors. Once they’re just a bit bigger their claws will come in properly and keeping them contained will be a much more difficult task. He’ll have to establish very good manners in all of them before then or he’s going to be in trouble.

“You seem to be adapting well,” Prince Iwaizumi says from behind him. Oikawa turns to look and sees the prince watching him. When he meets Oikawa's eyes, he hurriedly gestures around them. “I mean,” he says, faltering, “this place is running smoother than I’ve ever seen it, so you must be doing something right.”

“It’s sweet of you to notice,” Oikawa coos, shooting him another smile, this one less flash and more warmth. Prince Iwaizumi looks away. Oikawa beams. “And yes, I _am_ doing something right. A lot of things right, actually. There was a lot of room for improvement when I got here; the training program was a wreck.”

“Be respectful,” Prince Iwaizumi snaps, sounding the closest to his usual gruff princely self that he has all night. “The last dragon master did his best.”

“Why should I respect him? He did a terrible job,” Oikawa counters.

“Because –” Prince Iwaizumi starts, but then stops. Oikawa knows perfectly well why. The last dragon master was the queen’s cousin – a favored cousin, even – and badmouthing royalty is simply not done. But Oikawa's not really one for false niceties. He’ll play the game if he thinks it’s worth his time, but he doesn’t need this job badly enough to put up with the bullshit of pretending someone who made a mess he’s still cleaning up was the paragon of skill and leadership. “You shouldn’t talk about royalty like that,” Prince Iwaizumi finishes lamely, his tone stiff.

Oikawa tsks. “And here I thought you were here to work, not to suck up to those snobbier-than-thou bastards – and when they aren’t even around to hear you.”

“They’re not –”

“And how would _you_ know?” Oikawa asks, cutting him off. His juts his chin out in a challenge, his gaze steady as he meets Prince Iwaizumi's eyes. This is a bit dangerous. Oikawa doesn’t know that Prince Iwaizumi will tolerate this instead of tossing him in the dungeon for this kind of talk. But then, to do that he would have to admit to being the prince, and Oikawa is fairly certain that he doesn’t want to do that.

It’s tense for a moment as they hold each other’s gaze, neither backing down. Prince Iwaizumi is obviously frustrated. Oikawa is privately delighted. He’s pretty sure he’s going to win this one, and he loves to win. Winning against a prince will be a new experience, too, which is also fantastic.

Finally, Prince Iwaizumi looks away. Oikawa preens. Before he can do more than open his mouth, though, the prince takes a step away, towards the door, his face set in rigid lines.

“I’m sorry,” he says, again reverting to that gruffly formal prince voice as he walks away. His hand is clenched at his side, his fingers pressing white spots onto his skin. Oikawa feels a swooping sense of regret that has him speaking even as Prince Iwaizumi makes his excuses: “I have to –”

“Do you want the kits to go hungry?” Oikawa demands, interrupting him again. Prince Iwaizumi pauses, looking back at him. Oikawa isn’t sure what he’s doing. He didn’t really mean to bait the prince, and he certainly didn’t mean to upset him. The contrast between the stone-like lines of him now and the gentled posture of a few moments ago is lodged in Oikawa’s eyes. He wants the relaxed version back. He wants to let the prince have a moment to relax, without having to be the prince at all, like he intended when he first called him to join in his duties for the night.

Prince Iwaizumi says nothing for a moment, looking at Oikawa like he’s trying to figure him out. Oikawa gives him a moment, and then reaches for the latch on the stall he is still standing by, pausing just before he flips it to give the prince time to reject the offer, to finish walking out, before he does it. The prince stays where he is, his eyes flickering from Oikawa's face to the stall door. Oikawa takes that as his answer and tosses the bolt back and slides the door away.

“ _Toooorgheghegh_ ,” Rogue shrieks in her garbled, throaty howl as she throws herself out of the stall and directly into Oikawa's legs. Oikawa staggers with the force of it. The kits are getting too big to allow this kind of playful roughhousing now, sadly, with Rogue standing almost to his knees when she crouches and with a wingspan easily wider than he is tall, which means he’s going to have to put a stop to these greetings. It’s such a shame, especially with Rogue, who is his favorite, hands down, despite all attempts he made in the beginning to be impartial. None of the others try to say his name, after all – how could he refuse her?

“So this is Rogue,” Oikawa says, leaning down to rub her head while grinning at Prince Iwaizumi. Rogue butts her head into his palm, demanding he rub first her long, tapered ears and then her short, silver-gold snout. She’s one of the prettiest kits in the stables, with long, two-toned fur that will either stay with her into adulthood or else molt into shimmering scales. She’s also very demanding and affectionate, which is Oikawa’s absolute favorite thing about her.

“She’s very vocal,” Prince Iwaizumi comments. He presses a finger against his ear, eyeing Rogue with a mixture of admiration and apprehension. His shoulders have un-tensed again. Excellent.

“Not all dragons are, of course,” Oikawa says, looking at Rogue instead of at the prince while he continues to spoil her with scratches in the soft fur behind her ears, “but she loves to talk. She talks more than any dragon I’ve ever seen before. And she’s smart, too, like a parrot, repeating words back and even getting the context right half the time.”

“So she’s a good candidate for training when she’s big enough,” Prince Iwaizumi says.

“I have her in mind for Princess Yachi,” Oikawa admits, glancing up and dropping his voice conspiratorially.

Prince Iwaizumi blinks at hm. “You think Hi– Princess Yachi will be a dragon rider?” he asks carefully, clearly catching himself a beat too late as he went to use his sister’s given name before remembering the game they’re playing: he isn’t the prince here, now, which makes his little sister Princess Yachi to him just as much as she is to Oikawa. At least for the moment.

“Don’t you?” Oikawa fires back, his tone easy. He knows Princess Yachi intends to be a dragon rider; she told him as much when he first arrived, finding him alone in the saddle room one afternoon and stating definitively, looking every inch her birthright despite the washed out sunlight and her simple dress, that she doesn’t care that fire bearers are usually placed on the ground for strategic reasons, she wants to be a dragon rider and was there to gain his assurance that he would assist her in that endeavor. Oikawa promised to keep his eye out for a dragon he thought would be a good fit and, less than a month later, he had Rogue. They’ll be perfect together, the kind of match every dragon master strives to give the riders they serve. Rogue has already taken to the princess and will protect her well, and Princess Yachi will treat Rogue with the respect all dragons deserve but which Rogue will need to make anyone a decent partner; Rogue is too smart to be treated badly, and Princess Yachi is too measured to let Rogue get out of hand. Perfection.

“I had heard,” Prince Iwaizumi says, his words obviously considered, as he watches Rogue throw herself onto her back and roll inward at Oikawa, curving toward him, her paw batting lazily at Oikawa's pant leg, “that the youngest princess was intended for the Church.”

Ah, hopefully the princess’ designs weren’t a secret. She had seemed bold when she came to Oikawa, so he had just assumed that her plans were common knowledge, but Prince Iwaizumi seems surprised – just a little, though. She didn’t say to keep their discussion secret, so Oikawa elects not to feel bad about mentioning it. He’s fairly certain Princess Yachi can handle any opposition thrown her way, anyway.

“And I had noticed,” Oikawa says evenly, “as anyone would, that the princess is likely to do as she pleases.” He moves his scratches to the long column of Rogue’s neck, his mouth twitching into a small smile despite himself when she rumbles a purr. “A side effect of spending so much time with Prince Kuroo, I think,” he adds.

“No, she was always like that,” Prince Iwaizumi says. Oikawa glances up at him and Prince Iwaizumi quickly looks away. “Ah, so I’ve heard,” he tacks on hastily.

“Right,” Oikawa says. “So I guess it just runs in the family.”

“For some of them,” Prince Iwaizumi says, so quietly Oikawa almost misses it and figures he was probably meant to. So he pretends that he has and says nothing, straightening up and stepping over Rogue – who immediately bolts up and darts in front of him, weaving in and out of his legs as though on an assassination mission with Oikawa as her target and tripping over an over-affectionate dragon as the weapon of choice – to get to the next stall.

The rest of the kits are less enthusiastic than Rogue is, though all of them are glad to see Oikawa. They are, for the most part, much more interested in Prince Iwaizumi, who is a novelty and also standing by the box they know their food is in.

Feeding them really isn’t a two person job, a fact that becomes very apparent when Oikawa tosses the contents of the box – a mix of meat and vegetables saturated with chicken broth to get them to eat the green bits – out onto the floor and then has nothing to do but step back and … well, wait for them to finish. He feeds them at night because it’s better for their digestion at this age – Oikawa doesn’t know why, but he trusts Yahaba to be obsessively accurate in all his work; there’s a reason he insisted the palace hire Yahaba as their dragon physician on staff, and it’s because Oikawa only works with the best. It’s kind of nice, too, to come out here after everyone else is asleep, only the night guard and the occasional midnight stroller around. Oikawa likes the quiet. Rounding them up again after isn’t even that difficult either, with a few handfuls of beef held back to lure them close and then a quick snatch and deposit back into their stalls.

Prince Iwaizumi watches throughout the whole affair, mostly silent as Oikawa is, his posture growing more and more relaxed in proportion to the growing size of the smile playing around his mouth. His very nice mouth. Under his very nice nose. And his very nice eyes. And his very nice forehead.

More treason. Oh well.

By the time Oikawa has finished – only Rogue left loose, crouched in the middle of the room and staring intently at absolutely nothing on the ceiling – Prince Iwaizumi actually looks comfortable in his own skin instead of ready to shatter out of it at one touch. It’s nice. Which is why Oikawa says what he says next:

“Hey, wanna see something cool?”

Prince Iwaizumi looks up at him, away from Rogue’s rhythmically swishing tail and flicking ears and twitching wings, and raises his eyebrows. “Sure,” he says, almost like a dare, undertones of “bring it on” heavy and electrifying.

So Oikawa says, “Great,” and goes to get the harness.

Letting Rogue fly is a bit dangerous, to be sure, what with her being largely untrained and all, but Oikawa is pretty certain that even if she _does_ get loose, she’ll come back if he calls her. Probably. Maybe. If he has food on him. Dragons are difficult animals like that – it takes years to build up a truly unshakeable trust between them and humans, even for ones born in a stable; it’s clearly instinctive, their urge to get out, get away, to _fly_. Rogue is deeply attached to Oikawa, but she’s still a dragon, an animal that will always be wild at heart, and he knows better than to trust to fondness what needs to be secured with chain.

Rogue is writhing with excitement as Oikawa finishes buckling the harness on her, well aware of what the brown-leather-and-silver-chain ensemble means. As soon as he finishes, Rogue is rushing for the door, nearly pulling Oikawa off his feet with the sudden jerk. This may have to be the last time they do this; she’s getting too strong for him to trust that he _can_ reel her back in if he has to.

“Is this something you do with all the kits?” Prince Iwaizumi asks, falling once again into perfect step with Oikawa as they leave the kit stable and trail Rogue’s lurching, straining form down the hallways to the rear doors.

“Ah, not so much,” Oikawa admits. He tried with one of the others once, one of the more intelligent and responsive ones that he’s pretty sure is destined for the royal guard, but it proved to be something of a disaster. Oikawa is lucky he didn’t lose a kit that night, and doubly lucky no one found out and he didn’t lose his job. After that, he’s stuck to only taking Rogue out, and only rarely. After tonight, he won’t even be able to do it with her. It’s quite sad, actually.

“Special treatment for the Princess’ future mount?” Prince Iwaizumi asks, his tone playful, which is entirely new and entirely fantastic so Oikawa grins widely at him to encourage it.

“I thought she was intended for the Church?” he says back, returning the light, playful tone.

“I said that’s what I heard,” Prince Iwaizumi says. “I didn’t say where I heard it. And, as you said, the princess is headstrong enough to be likely to get what she wants.”

“So where did you hear it?” Oikawa asks, interested. Palace gossip isn’t something he goes out of his way for, nor is it something he ever passes along or spreads around, but it _is_ intriguing.

Prince Iwaizumi tips his head back, laughing a little. The sound sparkles in the night air that is suddenly whipping around them as they approach the open doors. He has a very nice laugh. And a very nice neck. “Not from the princess,” he says, oblivious to Oikawa's treason, his eyes bright, “so it doesn’t much matter, does it?”

“No, I suppose not,” Oikawa agrees. He makes himself look away from the prince when they step out onto the hard-packed dirt of the stables’ back yard, moving quickly to secure Rogue to the metal ring embedded in the ground – which is, in turn, secured to a slab of stone large enough to give even a fully-grown dragon trouble tugging it free – while she launches herself into the air, completely ignoring his mad dash to tie her off before the chain unravels fully. He makes it, only just, and the chain pulls taut, straining for a moment as Rogue tests her limits, as always, before allowing some slack to drop into it while she falls into a dizzying dive.

Oikawa loves this, letting her fly as free as he can and enjoy the overflowing energy of her youth the way she is meant to. Sometimes he thinks that maybe they shouldn’t have domesticated dragons in the first place. Something that wild isn’t meant to be tamed, it can’t be, can’t be meant to be chained and leashed and saddled.

It makes him sad, some days, and he has to remind himself to look at the riders and dragons who have been well matched. A well matched pair moves with the same liquid grace Rogue is displaying now and the same power a wild dragon throws around so casually; a well matched pair becomes something more than a dragon trained to let them fit it in reins and a saddle and a rider falling through the sky on the back of a wild animal. A well matched pair is grace ad power and ferocity and trust that crosses the bounds between species. And there is beauty in that, too. That’s why he does what he does, for the beauty of the well matched pair and the slow unraveling of miscommunication into trust and compatibility.

Rogue will do well with Princess Yachi. The princess will let her fly like this, he is sure of it, and it will be all the more beautiful for the bond they will share. Rogue will never be alone, will always be loved and cared for, and no one will keep her from flying.

“She’s beautiful,” Prince Iwaizumi says, surprising Oikawa with the murmured observation. Oikawa hadn’t heard him approach. Prince Iwaizumi is looking up, watching Rogue roll and flip and fly simple loops above them. He’s right: she is beautiful. She is a dark shadow against the moon. Something in the prince’s expression, though, makes Oikawa think he isn’t just seeing a dragon kit reveling in her night of relative freedom. Something in his expression is achingly familiar.

On impulse, Oikawa grabs the prince’s hand, ignoring the way he startles, and tugs him away from the stables, towards the hill that juts up in front of them. “Come on,” he says, “we can see her better from up there.”

Prince Iwaizumi comes willingly, still in step with Oikawa, to the hill. His hand is warm against Oikawa's palm and fingers and Oikawa's thumb rubs the back of the prince’s hand. Prince Iwaizumi glances down but his expression is pleased – guarded heavily in a way that seems reflexive, as though he has forgotten how to fully relax around anyone despite how at ease he has seemed at various points tonight, but still pleased – so Oikawa doesn’t let go until they reach the hill across the yard. They have to let go of each other to climb the hill, which doesn’t have a path to the top from this side and is fairly steep, and the cold air against Oikawa's hand where Prince Iwaizumi was touching feels colder than any other part of him.

At the top of the hill, Oikawa brushes the dirt from his hands that clung as he grasped for handholds and looks over at Prince Iwaizumi, who is doing the same. He gestures towards the shrub that dominates the hilltop, its spreading branches crouching low but reaching almost from one end of the plateau to the other. Oikawa isn’t sure if the plant is a very large bush or a very short tree – it isn’t a species they have in the vine country and he hasn’t had occasion to ask anyone here in the capitol about it yet – but, either way, it provides excellent shade in the day and a rather atmospheric hiding place at night. This is his favorite place in the capitol, the ideal location to survey the stables and the royal guard at work when he has a moment to spare and feels the need to step back and gain some perspective. He hasn’t ever seen anyone else up here and he hasn’t brought anyone up here with him before, and, though he did tell Kageyama about this place shortly after he moved in with Oikawa, Kageyama has never been here and Oikawa still thinks of this spot as his secret, his own little hideaway.

Until now, that is. Now, Prince Iwaizumi is sitting down with Oikawa beneath the tree or bush or shrub that has hidden Oikawa so well when he needs to hide for a bit. But Oikawa doesn’t mind sharing this with the prince. It seems to him that Prince Iwaizumi might need to hide sometimes, too.

“It really is a better view from up here,” Prince Iwaizumi says, his voice soft. He is looking up, his neck craned back. His dark hair catches the faint light that washes over them in fragments through the branches above them. He breathes in deep, holds it for a moment, and then sighs. All the tension leaves his body with the breath, his shoulders rounding like when Oikawa first saw him in the stables, but this time his head is not lowered, it is lifted and his eyes are alight with something that Oikawa wants to get closer to, wants to see more of.

“I always feel closer to the moon up here,” Oikawa says, still watching that light in Prince Iwaizumi's shadowed eyes. Prince Iwaizumi turns to glance at him, and Oikawa smiles.

Prince Iwaizumi smiles back. “Exactly,” he says. “Closer to the sky.”

Something about the remark strikes Oikawa and, since he’s spent the whole night being overly bold and courting treason – the view since they crested the hill would probably put him away for life if anyone could hear his thoughts – he decides to ask.

“Did you want to be a rider?”

Price Iwaizumi looks surprised, his shoulders beginning to tense, so Oikawa waves a hand at him, palm out, to assure him.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he rushes out, “I just wondered, because you sounded just then like someone who wants to be up there. And earlier you kind of seemed …” he trails off, unsure how to put into words the feeling he got watching the prince watch Rogue.

“Wistful?” Prince Iwaizumi offers, after a moment. He sounds rueful. Oikawa nods. “I did,” Prince Iwaizumi admits. “Once. But water bearers aren’t meant for the sky.”

“Neither are fire bearers,” Oikawa says, his tone leading.

“No,” Prince Iwaizumi says, “but Princess Yachi has always been braver than I am.”

Oikawa doesn’t like the heaviness in that statement. He doesn’t like the way Prince Iwaizumi's shoulders round more as he says it but not with ease – with defeat. He doesn’t like it, and he thinks the prince is wrong, too, so he tells him so.

“Even in the vine country,” Oikawa starts, his cadence deliberate and measured, waiting until Prince Iwaizumi looks at him again before he continues, “everyone knows the names of the four royal children. Prince Kuroo and his dragon Myrna; Princess Michimiya and the way the earth shakes beneath her feet; Princess Yachi who lights the sacred candles in every province during the winter solstice celebration; and –” he pauses, making sure that Prince Iwaizumi is listening “– Prince Iwaizumi, who led us into battle against a kingdom twice our size and brought more of our soldiers home than anyone expected.”

Prince Iwaizumi looks away, his jaw set.

Oikawa continues:

“The prince,” he says, “who fought bravely and led with dignity and never left the battlefield before his soldiers. The prince who won when no one thought we could – not through force, but through negotiations that have benefitted both kingdoms.”

“It’s easy to make war sound palatable in the aftermath,” Prince Iwaizumi says tensely, still looking away, out over the sprawl of the city washed clean in the moonlight below them, “to make it sound like victory to bring anyone home alive, but the reality of it is not that pretty. We didn’t lose, but I would hardly call my actions deserving of praise.”

Oikawa notices that Prince Iwaizumi owned his station just then, either through distraction or as a signal of giving up his pretended anonymity, but he doesn’t call it out. Instead, he sighs. Then he shoves the prince in the shoulder, nearly knocking him over, and tsks.

“Wha–” Prince Iwaizumi gapes at him, clearly startled, and Oikawa shakes his head at him.

“Show some respect,” Oikawa says solemnly, “that’s our prince you’re talking about.”

Prince Iwaizumi stares at him for a moment, his mouth loose and eyes wide. The tension seems to have been startled out of him, which is nice, though shoving a prince is almost definitely, for sure, illegal, and Oikawa doesn’t even have the defense of it only being done in his own head this time. Oops. Prince Iwaizumi is still staring at him, so Oikawa grins at him. Prince Iwaizumi blinks. His expression shifts through several emotions quickly and then, finally, he laughs.

“You’re something else,” Prince Iwaizumi says, laughter lingering in his voice.

“So I’ve been told.” Oikawa tosses his head, letting the sharp winter wind that threads its way into the underbrush of their hiding spot ruffle his hair. It’s good that the prince seems amused rather than offended. Oikawa was pretty sure he was safe – Prince Iwaizumi doesn’t seem the type to prosecute others for things that might be viewed as minor trespasses – but that must be relief loosening something in his chest at the sound of Prince Iwaizumi's laughter; what else could it be?

Prince Iwaizumi is watching him, and that light in his eyes is just a touch brighter than it was before. Or maybe that’s Oikawa's imagination. Just like the tension in Prince Iwaizumi's posture that doesn’t read as stress now, and the sudden weight in the air between them as they hold each other’s gaze, and the way the heat of Prince Iwaizumi's body is abruptly something Oikawa can feel across the inches between them. The cold must be getting to his head.

Oikawa breathes out heavily and watches the small cloud he makes in the air instead of looking at the prince anymore. He leans forward, putting some distance between them and shivering as the winter wind fills the space that was warmed by mutual heat. “I wish it would snow,” he says, because he does and because he feels like one of them needs to say something and he’s always been more comfortable speaking first in these situations. Whatever this situation is – a question he hadn’t thought to ask until this moment and which he doesn’t have an answer to.

It hadn’t seemed weird to bring the prince up here, to his secret place, alone, in the middle of the night, after spending all that time trying to tease some relaxation out of him. It hadn’t crossed his mind that this might be viewed as … inappropriate; despite his noticing of the prince’s physical attractiveness and the potential illegality of that noticing, he hadn’t thought that it might seem like he intended to do more than just notice.

He doesn’t know if the prince intends to do more than notice Oikawa, now that he’s thought of it. He doesn’t know –

Prince Iwaizumi shifts, leaning slightly away from Oikawa, and clears his throat very deliberately. He is looking out over the city again, the stables and training yards and everything beyond them. Oikawa watches him out of the corner of his eye. That light is still there, but perhaps a bit less obvious now, a bit more restrained, as though it has been carefully tucked away for the moment but not put out; Prince Iwaizumi is angled away from Oikawa, just a bit, but his posture is still relaxed. He speaks, and his tone is relaxed as well, maybe more so than it’s been all night, and it is laced with gratitude.

“Thank you, Oikawa,” Prince Iwaizumi says, glancing at Oikawa but keeping the distance between them. His smile is gentle – content. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Thoughtfulness. Yes. That’s all that this was. Oikawa saw that the prince needed a moment away from himself, his duties, and he did what he could to provide that. It was nothing more than that.

And now, it seems, the moment is over. Prince Iwaizumi is relaxed, but Oikawa can feel a shift in him, something he isn’t quite sure how to put into words but that feels sort of like a curtain dropping between them as Oikawa's assistant for the night fades back into the third heir to Seijou, regal and reserved and miles away from Oikawa despite the mere inches between them. The difference is palpable, though less painful than it was before, as Prince Iwaizumi takes up his responsibilities again but now, hopefully, feeling slightly less burdened by them – at least for a moment more.

“You’re welcome, your grace,” Oikawa says. It almost feels strange to call him properly now, but this seems to be the point at which their lives stop converging in the strange intimacy of the night and Oikawa, despite any treason and disrespect towards those who don’t deserve his regard, does acknowledge that.

The prince, however, apparently has his own ideas about that.

“Just –” he starts, pauses, and then says, “just call me Hajime, please. Just until we come down from here. I would like it if you did.”

Oikawa watches him for a moment. Prince Iwaizumi is still maintaining the distance between them, is not making any move to make this anything more than what it is – a moment of thoughtfulness, of shared breathing beneath the moon and a dragon kit with wings spread like an eclipse above them. So Oikawa nods.

“You’re welcome, Hajime,” he amends.

“Thank you,” Hajime says, again, as quiet as the shift of the night around them. His fingers tug at a branch dipping down in front of them. His lips are curved peacefully, his eyes bright, his shoulders rounded gently.

Suddenly, it starts to snow. Oikawa blinks, shocked, as the leaves and branches of the shrub become coated with crystal frost before his eyes, miniature icicles forming prettily at the tips. Petite snowflakes drift around them in a steady fall, coming without any warning and building up steadily in a powdery veil. The moonlight reflects off of the white snow, sparkling, glinting like tiny stars fallen to the earth and surrounding Oikawa and Hajime, hiding them both inside their own private galaxy.

Oikawa turns to Hajime, whose lips twitch up but remain pressed firmly together, offering no explanation. Well, some things don’t need an explanation; Oikawa knows that, and so he also says nothing, leaning back to watch the snow fall and to laugh – the prince’s laughter echoing his own – as Rogue streaks across the sky, chasing down snowflakes and rumbling her delight like muffled thunder. Some things are best unexplained; some things are best allowed to simply be.

Some moments are just moments, to be held lightly until, like all moments, like the snow itself, they fade gently away.

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn’t really matter to the fic, but it’s part of the world building I did in my head while writing it and it might give some context to some things so here we go:
> 
> Iwaizumi is one of four royal children, each of them born as a bearer of one of the four elements (basically, they have elemental abilities) plus having a secondary ability. This is the first time all four elements have been born into the same generation in over a century, which is a Very Big Deal for Reasons. Kuroo (the eldest) is an air bearer and has the secondary ability to create darkness; Yui (the second born) is an earth bearer and has the secondary ability to create light; Iwaizumi (the third born) is a water bearer and has the secondary ability to void heat; and Yachi (the youngest) is a fire bearer and has the secondary ability to create heat. It is an open secret kind of thing that Iwaizumi “should have been” an earth bearer but for some reason isn’t, as he has all of the steadiness of earth and none of the fluidity of water; he is insecure about this and feels as though he is letting people down by not being a good enough water bearer since one day, as a royal heir with an elemental tendency, he will have to become head of the water bearers (a largely ceremonial but still important position) and what kind of leader will he be if he doesn’t even properly embody their element? So he’s insecure and afraid.
> 
> Also, they all still have their actual names because sons take their father’s name and daughters take their mother’s name, and so Iwaizumi got his second name from the king and Yui got Michimiya from the queen but Kuroo is a nickname that comes from his ability and it became an easy way to distinguish between the two sons after Iwa was born, so it became his official title, with a similar situation going down with Yachi except they deliberately selected a nickname for her (Yachi means “marshland” in honor of her grandmother who came from the marsh) to easily distinguish her from her sister.


End file.
